Wishing Well
by Winter's End
Summary: Harry and Draco have a little chat beside a wishing well.


Wishing Well  
  
Written by: Artemis  
  
A/N: I will say nothing about this… just that it was only something that had escaped me during one of my boring Chinese classes. Grr… that stupid Chinese teacher's on my tail again. I wanna kill her. What the heck! I WILL kill her! I hope you enjoy this, though! No luvy-duvy stuff for all who're sick of it already. Promise.  
  
The wind blew solemnly through the autumn trees, sending a damp, relentless chill that foretold the coming of winter. Harry stood amidst it, feeling the cold through the thick cluster of robes that covered him; and in his mind, he knew that there were other prophecies, both terrible and great, hidden within its chilling midst. What they were, however, he had yet to find out.  
  
The wind receded. And there was silence once more. Around him, no tree stood that had not yet shed its leaves in surrender to the death of the seasons, no animal that had not yet begun to slumber into deep hibernation. All that still remained, untouched and unchanged by time, within that solemn place of promises, was an ancient well. It was a well so deep that none who beheld it could embrace the entirety of its darkness and fathom the unimaginable reaches of its depth, so ancient that not even the oldest wizard residing within the long-lived wizarding world could remember a certain time when it had not yet stood. And though the rope and the pulley were gone, the well remained, as deep and as silent as death. And even though many knew of its purpose as a wishing well, few believed in its efficiency; Harry did.  
  
Slowly reaching into a pocket of his robe, he retrieved a golden coin --- a Galleon, as wizards called it --- and made a silent prayer to whatever force was present that could make such a fanciful whim as a "wishing well" to others seem true and making it exist at all. It did not take a long time for him to make a wish, and an even shorter time to drop the coin to the ground. Disappointed, he bent down, and picked it up, thinking the simple occurrence ominous, but believing it not.  
  
He held the evasive coin between two fingers to his eye, wondering if he should take a risk in believing the omen. But even before he could begin his scrutiny, he became aware of a tall, black-robed figure standing but a very few meters away. Harry pocketed his ominous Galleon, and smiled at the silent form.  
  
"It makes me wonder how many appointments you've had to cancel today, dear friend," he said quietly, addressing the approaching figure.  
  
Draco returned a calming smile. "Not many," he answered. " Only the unimportant ones, of course. Although…" He thought for a moment. "I wouldn't be surprised if I find any of them holding their breath, waiting for me."  
  
Harry frowned. "Aren't you afraid that they'd just keel right over?"  
  
Draco heaved a forlorn sigh. "Hallelujah! If only 'twas true!" he exclaimed. "Do you know how much crap my father's job has acquired over the years? People come up to me and ask me if it would be okay to have pigs fly instead of owls! I mean… Where in the Abyss do these people come from!" He gave a frustrated growl.  
  
There was silence, followed by a soft gust of wind --- and a terribly misplaced tumbleweed.  
  
Harry blinked. And blinked. "Right…" he said with some confusion. And then, he laughed, with Malfoy's own laughter echoing his. "How have you been, Draco!' Harry exclaimed, clasping his old friend in his arms for a quick embrace.  
  
"Fine. Fine," Draco answered, returning the embrace. "What about you, Harry?" Both disengaged themselves from the other, although still tightly gripping each other's arm.  
  
"I'm fine myself, Draco."  
  
"And Hermione?"  
  
Harry gave a tiny grin. "Married."  
  
"Oh? To who?'  
  
"To me, old friend! To me."  
  
The answer was soon followed by another silence.  
  
"Oh…" Draco blinked. "I'm sorry for you."  
  
Harry laughed, and elbowed him to the ribs playfully.  
  
Draco chuckled, shaking his head in mirth. "And what about the weasel? Alive and breathing, I hope. I still haven't paid him back for all the times he's humiliated me." When Harry didn't answer, Draco finally realized the impact of his mistake. He shook his head. He'd seen it in the newspapers a couple of years ago. How could he have forgotten so easily? He rubbed his forehead uneasily. "I - I'm sorry, Harry…" He's voice trailed off. "I forgot… I'm really sorry."  
  
He cursed himself silently. This wasn't how he had planned it. He should have just shut up!  
  
The air around them suddenly became quite restless, and Draco knew that it wouldn't be easy from now on. He had to listen. And when he spoke, he would have to be blunt. That is… he couldn't allow himself to waste time. He knew Harry well enough that the Boy Who Lived would use the time to his advantage in ways that would not go well for Lucius Malfoy's son. He had to hurry before Harry would think enough to know.  
  
"Listen, Harry ---"  
  
Harry shook his head. "Don't bother, Draco. It's all right. I just let these things bother me too much."  
  
"These things aren't so insignificant that they can be ignored. Don't pretend, Harry. He was your friend. And I know you loved him dearly just as if he was part of your own family. I may not know how you feel, but I do know that you cannot take something like that so lightly."  
  
"You know, Draco," Harry began, looking back at his friend, with a gentle smile, "I'm glad that you've changed."  
  
Draco nodded. "As am I." He glanced at the deteriorating well beside them, believing that such absence of life in its midst would remind the fragile Boy of the loss he had encountered not many years ago. "Why don't we take a walk for a short while?" he asked. "To relieve both our minds."  
  
"Of course."  
  
* * * *  
  
The sun was nowhere in sight, though he could tell that it was only midday. Draco was glad he had decided to take his lunch early, else he'd be starving. He wondered if Harry was. He looked at the gem-eyed boy beside him with both fondness and concern. Four years ago, he wouldn't even have cared if the wretched Gryffindor Headboy even ate at all. It was different now. He owed a debt of gratitude to this boy --- no… not a boy, a man.  
  
It had been six years ago, at the end of the school year, at the end of their fifth school year. But Draco could still remember it as if it had only been yesterday. Six years ago, when a bored and utterly disregarded Fluffy found his way out of the damp room where Hagrid had kept him in check for years, a Draco, who had taken courage enough to prove himself superior to all, managed to challenge the depreciated poodle into a fierce fight. He had met the raging dog in the dungeons and attacked him with a simple spell, planning to save the stronger ones, as their battle would advance. Big mistake. With one quick flip of his tail, Fluffy the big poodle had had the Draco swatted to a nearby wall where he went splat… although, actually it was more of a bone-breaking crunch than a splat.  
  
Draco had gotten to his feet painfully, but still wanted to go on, knowing that there would be no turning back unless he was ready for the humiliation it would cost him if he did so. And it didn't take Dumbledore to find out how much he hated humiliation. He was a Malfoy! How could he not! The moment he had stood up, ready to continue what he had begun, someone else had come to the scene, to his rescue. Draco hadn't appreciated it, especially since it was Potter who had come.  
  
However, he did not gain the time to linger on the thought as a very angry, very bored, very big poodle came to charge at him with sharp and heavily salivated teeth. Draco had prepared himself to be eaten alive at that very instant, but was not prepared to have the Boy Who Lived move infront of him and shield him from the upcoming attack. It was Potter that had taken his place into the dog's center mouth. Potter whom he hated and disliked more than anything else in the world. Draco had not been prepared to loose to him again. Not again…  
  
And he charged, screaming a howl of challenge to the towering Cereberus looming above him, its three heads the very symbol of death. But even before he could utter a single spell, the central head began to contort with an agonizing pain that came from an unseen source. It swung its head about, causing the other heads to voice out ominous howls. With steam rising out of the corners of its mouth, the central head spat out the body of a wet Boy Who Lived, soaking in the Cereberus' drool onto a very stunned Draco who fell to the floor with the impact of Harry's weight.  
  
Just as both Headboys clamored to their feet, an eerie music began to resound through the dismal walls of the dungeon. In confusion, Fluffy turned his head this way and that, truing to figure out the source of the music. By the look on Harry's face, Draco could tell that it wasn't supposed to work that way. Whatever spell it was in the music was not in the least bit working on the disoriented beast. He himself was beginning to worry.  
  
The Cereberus growled in rage and charged at both boys with a ball breath of flame.  
  
"Harry!" came a scream from the few onlookers who stood mesmerized by the unexpected turn of events.  
  
Awaken by the voice from his trance, Harry instantly wove a protection spell around both of them from the charring blast of fire.  
  
Draco clutched at Harry's arm in growing confusion. "Was that even meant to happen!" he demanded of the boy.  
  
"Shut up, Malfoy! I'm trying to think!"  
  
"Then, you're not thinking hard enough! This spell of yours isn't going to last very long, you know. We have to do something!"  
  
"Then do it yourself!"  
  
Draco half-expected that answer, and felt a grin tugging at his lips. "Exactly what I had planned to do, Potter."  
  
"No! Malfoy, don't!"  
  
With a word of command, he unsummoned the spell of protection that surrounded them, stepping infront of the stunned Gryffindor, once again attracting the full attention of the three-headed dog.  
  
He flicked his wand between himself and the mounting hulk of black mass and began to chant a newly learned spell he had been taught but a very few days ago. However, in mid-chant, the Cereberus tilted its heads back, gurgling as if in laughter. This surprised him, and his chant was broken, and the next thing he knew, he was inside that putrid mouth.  
  
Draco couldn't breathe. He was smothered between its terribly powerful jaws. And between him and the dog, he wouldn't have wanted to breathe inside that purulent mouth, anyway. And so, slowly, he could feel his life slipping away. His lungs began to hurt in protest as his time extended within those massive jaws that would entomb him should he stay any longer. But he couldn't do anything as Potter had, his wand had been lost to him, and all thoughts of escaping was reverted to the thoughts of the pain that exploded in his chest as his lungs began to crave for oxygen.  
  
Suddenly, he felt himself sliding down into the beast's welcoming throat, and knew that it wouldn't take long for him to reach its stomach, and his death. Somewhere between pain and thought, Draco began to feel a flash of heat encircle him. It finally seemed to him that he wouldn't at all reach the beast's stomach after all. He was going to burn in its fiery breath. It didn't matter to him very much anymore; he was going to die either way, but in a way that had almost as much honor as having fallen from a cliff slipping on a banana peel.  
  
At least, he wouldn't be alive long enough to be able to live through the humiliation. The heat's intensity rose, he was then able to hear a violent gurgling in the Cereberus' throat as it prepared to spew out its flame. Funny, he never thought he could still hear during death.  
  
And he saw the fire, growing, and growing… and suddenly he felt a violent surge of a falling sensation…  
  
He woke up, and the first thing he saw was Potter's face, looking at him with hidden concern. Potter stood, and offered his hand. Draco took it, and managed to stand up, thoroughly bathed in drool, smelling like a sewer. Potter handed him his wand, saying nothing as he watched the blond boy take it.  
  
Gaining enough courage, Draco managed to look at him in the eyes. And whispered his first gracious sentence. "Thank you," he said.  
  
Potter smiled. "You're welcome."  
  
Harry reached out. "Draco, are you all right? It seems like you've been far away."  
  
Draco smiled. "Just reminiscing." He sighed. "I owe you my life."  
  
"You've paid it by becoming my friend."  
  
The laughter that erupted from Draco's lips could not be helped as he stood face to face with the man who had once been his enemy. It wasn't a menacing laugh, nor even a mocking laugh, just a knowing laughter that cascaded through the bitter coldness of the coming frost. "Oh, come on, Harry!" he laughed. "Both of us know by now that that isn't exactly what you mean. There is a price to friendship, isn't there?"  
  
Somehow, Harry was saddened by this sudden unraveling of the truth that he had kept for himself. He had never thought that Draco would have gotten the time to thinking of it so much. Yes, there was a certain aspect to which he wanted Draco to repay him, not for his own good, but for the good of mankind.  
  
Draco noticed Harry's sudden change of expression, and mellowed down. He hadn't meant to upset, just to tell him what he knew. But it seemed that what he knew had upset him. "Isn't that why you had called me here?" he asked.  
  
"Yes," Harry answered softly, turning to the side when he realized they had been taken back by their wanderings to where the well still stood, undisturbed. "But it's not what you think, Draco," he admonished. "I just wanted to make everyone's safety become as certain as possible. You already know that Voldemort's forces are working thrice as hard now as they used to. There are Death Eaters everywhere! And few have courage enough to oppose them."  
  
"Just as you have done in the past." Draco nodded. "Yes, Harry. I know what predicament we are in, but I know very few who can stand up to it. Not many in this world are ready to face their own death when it comes for them, and even lesser still are those who would intentionally walk right into its gaping mouth. Death is a release, Harry, I know… but not for those who would loose their soul. Few want that."  
  
"But the outcome is already inevitable if this keeps on. The Aurors are being crushed to the ground, and we have already come to the part when numbers mean everything." Harry ran his hand through his hair in a show of deep frustration. "I don't understand these people!" he exclaimed angrily. "In a time when Voldemort was weak, they had sought for our protection, for the defense we had offered to them against him. And now that he is whole and indefinitely alive, they flock up to him like a herd of sheep gathering about a dangerous wolf, which would someday feast on their mutilated flesh!  
  
They had looked up to me once… and to Dumbledore, finding hope in the abilities of an infant child who had been saved by his mother's love and in the deteriorating strength of an aged man! And now, that I myself am a man, and Dumledore has gained an even more powerful force in his age than when he was yet young, they forget us as they would a diseased mule left dying on the road, setting us aside as they would a lame-brained ox!"  
  
Draco gave a shake of his head. What Harry was saying has been highly justified, and he pitied the poor Auror, pitied him for the fatal passion he had poured out and into his work. And with Harry's friend, Ron Weasley, killed by the unforgiving Avada Kedavra released by the also-recently- demised Lucius Malfoy, the Aurors were made an even lesser force.  
  
"Now, Draco," Harry began, finally regaining control of his emotions. "Now, you must see what great need we have of you, of your services as an Auror. Please, work with us. I know that the Ministry of Magic has eaten up your time, but please understand that even the Ministry will not survive when Voldemort has finally gotten his hands on the world."  
  
"But what difference can one wizard make? What difference can I make?"  
  
"You have already established a greater influence than your father in the wizarding after only four years of having worked there. This will do to our great advantage in gathering more followers to stand up against Voldemort's minions, and maybe… against Voldemort himself."  
  
Draco resisted snort. "More followers aren't going to help, Harry. Voldemort has already mustered his powers and will sooner than later begin his forthcoming attack. He will give you and your puny forces all he has --- and that is a lot, Potter. That's a mighty lot for those who will oppose him are going to be up against."  
  
"But it's worth trying to stop him! Even if we die trying!"  
  
"You're only going to waste your life in an unrealized cause. The reason, Potter, why those people are so suddenly flocking up towards him is because they have realized the fatal error of opposing him. They have already realized what great advantage they can get by flocking to the winning side, which you and your insignificant little Aurors haven't realized yet, but will, just as soon as I can get it inside your little heads."  
  
Harry was struck dumb. He couldn't believe the sudden change in Malfoy.  
  
Malfoy, he realized with fear. He was no longer talking to Draco; he was talking to Malfoy. The Malfoy, whose pride Harry had years ago vanquished by saving his life. Was he now awake again? Back from the abyss to where he had been sent? Harry surmised. Had he even been truly vanquished? Or had he only been hiding beneath the surface of the newly arisen boy he had rescued from death six years ago?  
  
Whichever it was, he couldn't tell; but he finally knew his mistake in having trusted him. But he wasn't going to loose hope, not yet, not now, not during the time that hope was needed most.  
  
And once again they were flung into an uneasy silence. Harry speechless with utter disbelief, Draco in silent contemplation, and the author's sudden affinity to let gaps of silence lengthen the fic.  
  
"What has happened to you?" Harry asked incredulously.  
  
Draco gave him a wary smile. "Nothing has happened to me, Harry," he answered. "I have only come to accept what is already certain to become the inevitable. For even as we speak, Voldemort's forces are scouring the earth to gather a greater number of minions. Even in the early stage of this war, his influence on the world is overwhelming you; he is winning, and he will win. And he will make it so that all your efforts of defeating him will become futile, crushed into nothingness, into non-existence as if it had never been there. And the whole world will forget you. They will forget the Boy Who Lived who had very nearly come to defeating the tyrant ruler who will kill them all.  
  
And they will realize that it is their own fault as they had resisted the help of those who had once cared, but stand no longer. They will suffer, they will regret, but they will do nothing because they know and have known that hoping for a better life rid of the existence of one that is immortal is a hope based on falsity. They know they cannot win, know that to resist him and to accept him would lead to a similar fate --- would lead to death. But they will care not as they realize that in serving him, they will be offered what is a single and the greatest chance in a lifetime: to be able to taste the glories of a victory that has been established upon the blood of their weaker foes and of their enmity with the world."  
  
"But still they will die."  
  
"But die in their victory against all!"  
  
"What victory is there in surrendering the world to maniac ruler who would only crush it until all he has left to rule over is the darkness which will slowly eat him up from the inside out?"  
  
And yet another silence passes by.  
  
"That is the very reason I need you, Potter," Draco admitted in a whisper.  
  
Harry stepped back. This wasn't what he had expected. He had expected Malfoy to sign him up for the Death Eaters, not this… whatever this is.  
  
*Maybe he needs help signing up… * Harry's mind whispered.  
  
Harry blinked, and pushed it aside. It was a silly thought, and highly irrelevant one for a situation that was as serious and as important as this. He didn't know where it cam from, whether it came from his initial shock or from Artemis' fierce boredom, he couldn't tell. He was starting to get really annoyed.  
  
"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" he demanded, sensing an urge to flee from this nightmarish situation.  
  
"I'm talking about world domination, Potter," he replied bluntly. "I know how powerful you have become over these years. Whether it's Voldemort's influence over your being or your own personal capacity, I don't care. I just want you on my side, by my side. For as impossible as it may seem, Voldemort has a weakness. I will find that weakness, and I will use it against him. And you will help me."  
  
"We don't have the time for that, Malfoy! Because even if all of the Aurors combined will help you in your search, the entire humanity would have already been destroyed by then. What then have we left to save? All means of salvation would be next to nothing, because there will be nothing to save!"  
  
"There will still be survivors, Potter. Those will be the powerful ones, the wizarding ones. And do you know what that means, Potter? It means that there will no longer be any Muggle to hide from, no longer any Muggle in existence to hinder us from manifesting our greatest skills and capacity! No more Muggles to taint our very blood and essence! No more Muggles to dominate us! We will be a new race, a pure race. We will rise from the ashes of our ancestors and dominate over all that these pesky humans have taken for granted! We will make this world a better place to live in. A better world, where everything will be centered on the magic and on nothing more."  
  
"It's a dead world! No creature other than the wizarding ones. And what of the centaurs? What of the dragons? What of all the creatures that have lived in the wizarding world but have not survived merely because they had not the capacity to do so?"  
  
"They will survive. Believe me, they will. Maybe just a few, but they'll survive. And when all is safe, they can return to the world and then, if they want to, they can multiply once again."  
  
"But what of the people!" Harry demanded in frustration. "Even if you do succeed in this plan of yours, they will all be long gone!"  
  
"They're Muggles, Harry! Pests! Insects! Nothing to be of concern to us! They should even actually be thankful to us that we have released them from an empty life void of all magic and power!"  
  
Harry regarded him sadly, his shoulders sagging with a great heaviness of heart that he had not felt since the time of Ron's untimely demise. This was not the Malfoy he had hoped to see at the world's greatest need. This was not the Malfoy he had befriended years ago. This was the Malfoy he had wanted to die. "Funny," he told the blonde. "Six years ago, I would have thought the same of you."  
  
The gleam in Draco's eyes instantly died. It left them suddenly empty and gray, the cold, hard grayness one can see on the surface of a nonliving rock. He eyed the Boy with a sheer, cold pity. "Certainly, you do not mean," he began, but was cut off by the abrupt shake of Harry's head. That was all Draco needed to see. Truly, there was no longer hope for them. Their friendship has been severed and was broken. They would be worlds apart from now on, and they will always be apart.  
  
Draco shifted his position, his body stiffening to an erect posture that signaled the conclusion of that meeting. He removed all traces of emotion from his face, and looked at the stranger that stood before him in silent resignation, but who was glaring at him with defiance.  
  
"A life for a life, Potter," he told him. "You have saved my life only to loose yours by denying my help. And thus, you shall die."  
  
"I have never asked for you to try to save my life, Malfoy. Just for you to make a decision between your path as a Slytherin and your path as my friend."  
  
"And so I have chosen. My debt has been paid."  
  
"You have not chosen the path I had hoped you to. The debt remains unpaid, and I shall make sure that it follows you to your grave. I will have your payment in the battlefield," he told him, and sneered.  
  
His hand slowly found its way to a pocket. He didn't know by what miracle it had gotten there, but the sudden urge to draw something out was relentless. His fingers landed on something hard and familiar, he withdrew it from his pocket, and took it in his palm.  
  
It was the coin.  
  
He looked up at Draco, wondering, fearing, knowing. He wrapped his fist around the coin's golden visage, gritting his teeth at the fate of a crumbling alliance that had just crumbled, and at the fate of the coin that had tumbled to the ground with the wish that that alliance, that that friendship could have saved the world.  
  
A wish that wasn't going to be, that never could be.  
  
Harry controlled an inner howl of pain from escaping him, vehemently preventing tears from rolling down his eyes with the agony of a shattered dream. He clenched his fist, tighter, hard enough to draw blood.  
  
He again looked up to face Draco, hoping against hope that the blonde Slytherin wouldn't find it in himself to realize his growing fears.  
  
Draco said nothing.  
  
Harry sighed inwardly. This was meant to be, he thought sadly. Slowly, he opened his hand, revealing the blood spotted coin. His other hand instantly shot out before Draco could utter his protest. He pried the other man's hand open, forcing it to encompass the coin in his grip, keeping a firm eye contact between them all the while. He forcibly pushed Draco's fist to his chest, stepping back after his former ally had received it.  
  
Draco opened his palm, and found the coin, spotted with Harry's blood, shining an eerie gold.  
  
"Make a wish, Malfoy," Harry then told him. "You might need it."  
  
Before Draco could retort, Harry swiftly turned on his heels in one abrupt motion, and walked away.  
  
Draco watched him leave in silence as he passed through the narrow pathway between the leafless trees. A sudden feeling of loss lingered there, between the silent branches that bent to the will of the wind, and even within the wind. It haunted him, following his thoughts that wandered into the realm of darkness, following the path of the dark mark that lay embedded upon the flesh of his left arm. It gave him no peace, but it awakened his inborn stubbornness to an extent that he nearly didn't recognize himself.  
  
Closing his eyes, he grinned, and opened them again, leering into the dimming shadows of the passing afternoon where Harry had entered and had left. He threw his head back, and laughed…  
  
And laughed…  
  
And laughed, into a series of derisive laughter that echoed eerily without mirth through the emptiness within where he stood.  
  
Heaving a heavy breath as his laughter resounded through the void, he looked back to where Harry's form had disappeared not a few seconds ago. He glared through the trees, the grin temporarily marring his features into a manic sneer.  
  
"Yes, Potter, that's it," he whispered menacingly, as if the Auror was still there standing before him. "Walk away from me. Hide from me. Never hope to see me again. You can feel it, can't you, Potter? You can feel my powers growing as yours have… You can feel it as I do…"  
  
And he laughed. A short manic laughter that belied an even greater level of derision that he had acquired for the world.  
  
"Yes, Potter. Someday, I will find his weakness… and I will crush him like a bug! He will pay for what he has done to my father…" He grinned. "And I will make you sorry. Sorry that you have turned your back away from me… and from the salvation I had offered you. If you will not take it, then I withdraw it. I have given you the choice, and you've denied it; you have hoped for my decision, and I have given it. The debt has been twice paid, and for that, you are now in my debt. And the next time we meet, Potter, will be our last…  
  
… That is a promise."  
  
And with that, he whirled on his heels, and, kissing it, tossed the Galleon to the dismal abyss that resided within the silent well, and in silence himself, left. He did not notice that through the dense and reverberating darkness that swelled within the confines of its circular wall, a soft pulsing light began to glow. It glowed with a dark and inner heat that surpassed that of a flickering torchlight. It writhed like no mortal being, eerie with immortal light, powered and alive with the darkness of the wish.  
  
~~~  
  
A/N: Finally! After one day of doing nothing other than typing this stupid fic into this computer, I finally finished it! And I hope that you all enjoy the outcome of my effort! Because if you don't…  
  
I might just… I might just… DO something! Well… Anyway, ENJOY! ^_^x 


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